


to start a spark

by anddirtyrain



Series: The modern AU files [3]
Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4194639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anddirtyrain/pseuds/anddirtyrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3am and the fire alarm in our apartment complex just went off let me lend you my jacket while we wait on the sidewalk AU.<br/>Or,<br/>Francis really needs to stop setting off the fire alarm, but just this once, he’s glad he did it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to start a spark

The shrill ringing wakes her up. At first she thinks she’s having a nightmare, but after her bleary eyes open and the sound from hell doesn’t fade, she realizes it’s very real, and very, very annoying. She pulls her pillow on top of her head, trying in vain to drown out the sound.

It takes her over-worked brain less than a minute to realize that it’s the fire alarm. Shit.

At once she realizes that it’s not a simulation because her landlord it’s just not the type to do fire simulations, and jumps out of bed.

“Kenna!” she exclaims, standing up and running to her door, knocking on it hard before she hurries to put on a pair of flip-flops.

“Kenna, the fire alarm!” she pushes the door open to find her roommate still in bed, covered by a fort of blankets. “Kenna!” She shakes her shoulder.

“Let me burn,” she moans and snuggles deeper into the covers, and Mary simply grasps the corner of her sheets and pulls them unceremoniously off her.

“Hey!” she exclaims, but then shakes her head and pulling on her pair of combat boots, hurries after Mary. When she opens the door, they’re met with their neighbors hurrying down the stairs in various stages of undress and embarrassing pajamas.

“I think it’s from upstairs,” Mrs. Bryan, the nice old lady next door tells them, as she goes down the stairs, her two cats in her arms.

“I don’t think the building is burning down,” Kenna tells her as they walk down with the rest of their grumbling neighbors, looking around as if expecting flames to start licking at the walls any moment now. “Did you really have to pull me out of bed?”

Mary just looks at her intently, because, really. I mean. Yeah. Ok.

“I’m just saying, I’m going to hell anyways, a little fire early….” she shrugs, jokingly (Mary thinks, she’s not sure) but down the stairs they go and after a few minutes of bumping and uncomfortable closeness with the guy from across the hall, they cross the tiny set of doors and find themselves outside.

Where it becomes painfully clear that she’s not wearing a coat. Or a bra. Kenna gives no fucks, but Mary (out of what Kenna would call years of conditioning from a misogynistic society), folds her arms to cover herself.

Guy-from-across-the-hall walks over to them, and tells them that it wasn’t a false alarm, but a guy from the 4th floor was cooking and his oven caught on fire, which set off the alarm in the whole apartment complex.

Which, it’s nice to know they even have a working fire alarm, sure, but what the hell. 

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Kenna tells her, “just our incredibly stupid neighbors.”

She nods, trying in vain to pull further the sleeves of her pajama, it’s cold and miserable outside, and she’s this close to shivering.  She’s startled when she suddenly feels a warmth weight on her shoulders, and when she looks behind her, all she can see for a second is hair.

“Take it,” the guy tells her, obviously another of their neighbors if the pajamas and messy –really messy- bed hair is anything to go by.

“Thanks,” she tells him, a little surprised, and tugs the jacket closer to herself.

“It’s okay. I’m Francis,” he offers his hand, and she takes it.

“Mary, this is my roommate Kenna,” he smiles and shakes Kenna’s hand.

“Can you believe this?” Kenna asks him, waving to the front yard and their disgruntled neighbors milling about, matching annoyed looks on their faces.

“Yeah, what asshole would bake at 3 am and burn things enough to set off the fire alarm, right?” Mary asks Francis.

“Actually…I’m that asshole,” he says, putting his hands deep in the pockets of his pajama bottoms. And suddenly Mary wishes a huge hole would open up and swallow her. _Please, let me die, right now_. Kenna giggles next to her. She thanks the universe when she’s interrupted by another guy, this one taller and with dark hair -and shirtless- who comes jogging towards them. She hears Kenna audibly gasp next to her.

“I talked to the landlord, they’re not calling the firemen after all,” he tells Francis, and he nods. “I’m Bash, we moved in last week.”

“Kenna,” she tells him, shaking his hand a little longer than necessary.

“Mary,” she smiles.

“I’m...eh, I’m sorry about all this,” he says, running his hand through his hair.

“Its fine,” Kenna waves it off, “I wasn’t that deep asleep anyways, don’t worry.” Mary just gives her a look. _What?_ Kenna mouths.

“Well, I’m still sorry,” and he turns to look at Francis. “Maybe that way you’ll learn not to be so fucking weird and bake at 3 am.” He chastises him and playfully hits him on the nape of his neck. Francis laughs, and Mary realizes she’s staring at him.

He’s thin, she can notice that through his t-shirt, and just plain pretty, in a way that’s delicate and a little feminine; all blond hair and blue eyes and pink lips. She didn’t think that was her thing, not until approximately 5 minutes ago when she looked, and couldn’t stop.

Bash walks back to the building when their landlord waves him over. And how does she ask this.

“That was your…?”

_Please don’t say boyfriend please don’t say boyfriend please don’t say boyfriend_

“My brother, Bash. We live up on 3d,” he tells her.

_Thank you god_

_“_ 6b,” she says. “You don’t look anything alike,” she mentions, because apart from the blue eyes she’s never seen two more different men.

“We’re half-brothers,” he clarifies, “we have different moms.”

“Oh,” she nods, because she can’t seem to stop doing that.

She looks away, the silence a little awkward, and snuggles closer into his jacket (it even smells nice).

All right, deep breaths Mary. 3…2…1...

 “I didn’t mean it, earlier, by the way,“  she tells him, “about the idiot thing.”

“I thought you said asshole,” he teases.  She bites her lip in embarrassment. “It’s all right.”

“So…I’m forgiven?” she asks him.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says, and then a blush paints his cheeks, and she doesn’t think it has anything to do with the cold air. He seems about to back out of whatever he was going to say and oh, she doesn’t want him to.

“Yeah?”

“Come upstairs, tell me if the cookies were worth all of this,” he says, shaking his head and letting the curls fly everywhere like little springs.

“I thought they burnt,” she teases him.

“Eh,” he scratches his head, “not the first two batches.”

Before she can answer, their landlord finally starts waving everyone back in, apparently having decided that they wouldn’t burn to death, at least for tonight.

“What were you doing baking a third batch of cookies at 3 in the morning?” she asks, looking up to him (she realizes now he’s tall, like a full head taller than her).

“That’s a bit of a longer story,” he answers, and he’s looking down and blushing and it’s ridiculously endearing.

“Well, do you have milk to go with those cookies?” She smiles, and he smiles and together they step inside the apartment complex, and into new possibilities


End file.
